I’m kind of tired of hating on Dallas. If you live in Fort Worth, bitching about Big D is practically a God-given right or at least a tacit, public oath of fealty to Panther City’s banner, but c’mon: Maybe give it a rest....

About a year and a half ago, I took a date to this place on Hwy. 377 called Randi’s 2 to 2. I had a good time, and I wrote a column about it, musing over what I thought was a pretty positive experience. Despite whatever nice ...

If you want to be beaten down for about 40 minutes, try to visit a business along Highway 121. It’s not like that stretch of slotcar track has ever been fun to drive, but these days, with the never-ending road construction wo...

I moved to the west side of town a couple months ago, and while I miss the convenience of living within staggering distance of the bars on West Magnolia Avenue, renting a place over in Ridgmar has reacquainted me with a couple ...

Of all the peculiarities and hassles surrounding the Ridglea Theater’s renovation, the oddest one in my mind was how the Ridglea Bar, now rechristened as the Ridglea Lounge, opened for all of 11 days last March. It didn’t h...

Unless you hate crowds, Mondays are a rough night to go out. Maybe not happy hour so much; I’m thinking more of those last few hours of the night, when an already quiet bar becomes utterly devoid of life. A lot of times, the ...

I’d seen No Frills Grill & Sports Bar’s ads, and I’d driven past its locations in Arlington and Keller, but I’d never cared to step through any of their doors until this guy at a liquor store told me they had super-...

Months ago, I had a story idea that I was going to pitch to Weekly editor Gayle Reaves as a Second Thought column. I’d planned to use the space to develop this thoughtfully researched argument in favor of legalizing marijuana...

Do you know somebody who goes to Applebee’s on the reg to get drunk? If you do, is it your weird Uncle Mustache or sad Aunt Cathy? Or are you chagrined to admit it’s your dad? The only times I ever go there are when I get a...

Last summer, after being informed by some self-important neighborhood denizen that The Boiled Owl, where I tend bar, needed to serve food, I griped in print how American eating has evolved from a matter of biologically fueling ...